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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29599029">oh honey, i want this to be real</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/niunepp/pseuds/niunepp'>niunepp</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>we went from rivals to lovers, and i think that's pretty neat [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Attempt at Humor, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Inspired by Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), Jealous Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Lots of it, M/M, Making Out, Multi, Mutual Pining, PLEASE READ THE NOTES AT THE BEGINNING, Slow Burn, briefly, cameos by other people in the dsmp, can’t believe i forgot to tag but, not beta'd we die like tommy in jail</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:06:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,113</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29599029</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/niunepp/pseuds/niunepp</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>One would think that with a big job opportunity on the horizon that could skyrocket their professional careers, the two detectives would be happy. And, for George, he was. He had been happier than ever before. For Dream? It had been hell ever since.</p><p>Out of everything Sapnap could have recalled about his drunken interactions during Dream and George’s date, he had remembered Dream’s vulnerable confession. The next step was to obviously tell Quackity and Karl, because what else would he do?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Cara | CaptainPuffy/Niki | Nihachu, Clay | Dream &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound &amp; Wilbur Soot, if you squint</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>we went from rivals to lovers, and i think that's pretty neat [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2163987</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>297</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>oh honey, i want this to be real</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i tried speedrunning this but i guess this is where my dream kinnie powers fail me :/</p><p>content warnings: discussion of murder, mentions of cocaine, cursing</p><p>ALSO: the georgebur is completely platonic in this. i'm sorry georgebur shippers ,, i apologize profusely for baiting (i guess technically i didn't, cuz i didn't tag it, but still fair warning at the start). </p><p>please do not share this to the cc's in this fic. if anybody in this fic ever changes their minds about works with content such as this, or expresses discomfort with fanfictions written about them, I will take this down immediately.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>It had been a few weeks since the bet had ended. Dream and George had been scouted by the brass and were on their way to be accepted into the task force. Although it would take a while to fully set it up, they were excited.</p><p>One would think that with a big job opportunity on the horizon that could skyrocket their professional careers, the two detectives would be happy. And, for George, he was. He had been happier than ever before. For Dream? It had been hell ever since. </p><p>Out of everything Sapnap could have recalled about his drunken interactions during Dream and George’s date, he had remembered Dream’s vulnerable confession. The next step was to <i>obviously</i> tell Quackity and Karl, because what else would he do?</p><p>Now, everytime that Dream and George talked to each other, or even looked at each other there was one of three stooges in the background, each equipped with one signature move. </p><p>Wisecrack, camera, action.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>…</b>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p>A few days after the date, the whole squad is sitting in the briefing room waiting for the Captain to walk in and give out new cases and check in on old ones - regular precinct routine.</p><p>Dream is on his phone, mindlessly scrolling through five different social media apps in a pathetic attempt to simultaneously feel something and distract himself from the numbness of his reality. </p><p>The room is loud, too many people with clashing personalities jammed into a small space. Karl, Sapnap, and Alex are fucking around with themselves, making kissing noises at each other and flirting obnoxiously with each other, making all of the singles and pining members of the room feel bitterly lonely. </p><p>Tommy and Tubbo are in the precinct too, shadowing Bad and Skeppy. The two teenagers are being awful, cursing and asking inappropriate questions, purposefully trying to piss off Bad.</p><p>There’s something different about the two older detectives that Dream can’t quite pinpoint.</p><p>“Hey, Dream,” George’s voice stands out amongst the rambunctious crowd, for no particular reason, his words aren’t even that loud yet Dream hears them crystal clear. </p><p>George taps him on the arm, attempting to turn his attention on something other than his phone. He looks up and sees George staring at something. Following the other man’s line of sight, his gaze lands on a new figure. </p><p>There’s a man standing at the door, looking slightly nervous at the prospect of being around so many new people. He looks tall; they’re probably the same height, <i>or at least similar</i>, he thinks to himself. The man has a beanie on, and his brown, curly hair sticks out aesthetically.</p><p><i>Eh</i>, Dream thinks. Not paying much attention, he turns back to George, who has a light flush on his cheeks. </p><p>Dream’s eyes narrow, and he looks back at the man, and wonders what about him is making <i>George</i>, of all people, blush. Something deep down inside him wonders, <i>why not me?</i> </p><p>Captain Puffy strolls in, purple hair flowing slightly behind her as she walks. The room goes silent, and she stops at the small podium at the front of the room.</p><p>Quackity breaks the modest silence, as always, with no tact whatsoever, “So… Captain… dyed your hair this weekend?”</p><p>The captain chuckles and runs her fingers through the strands fondly, “Yes, I did, detective. Well, technically my wife did,” she gestures towards where George and Dream are sitting, “Like Taken and Roberts here, my wife and I also made a bet. Unfortunately, I lost.”</p><p>The man at the side of the room makes himself known, his British accent catching everyone’s attention, “How is Niki, Captain?”</p><p>Puffy looks slightly startled, “Ah, Wilbur! I didn’t know you’d get here this early,” she beckons him over to her with her hand, “Niki’s good. She’s been asking about you, but we’ll talk later in my office.”</p><p>The man, <i>Wilbur</i>, Dream murmurs to himself with disdain, walks over with long strides. As soon as he’s next to Puffy, she smacks him on the back in greeting and he keels over slightly at the weight of her powerful hands. </p><p>Dream smirks at the sight, and gets a smack of his own from George who noticed the spiteful grin on his face.</p><p>He turns to George annoyed, trying to silently convey a ‘what the hell?’ with his face. George simply brings a thin, pale finger to his lips and shushes him.</p><p>Dream rolls his eyes and zones out as Puffy introduces the new man as Wilbur, and then goes through her daily checklist. The only thing he notices is Wilbur and George making eyes at each other. He huffs in jealousy, and apparently it’s loud enough to get Sapnap’s attention.</p><p>Without wanting to disturb Puffy, Sapnap pulls out his phone discreetly and starts texting Dream.</p><p> </p><p><i>9:34 am</i><br/>
<b>sap</b><br/>
poor dreamies jealoussss<br/>
<i><span class="small">read 9:34 am</span></i></p><p>Dream sputters at the text and turns to the side to glare at Sapnap. The other man just snickers at him. His fingers race across the keyboard of his phone.</p><p> </p><p>
  <i></i>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p><i>9:35am</i><br/>
<b>dream</b><br/>
shut the fuck up.<br/>
i am not jealous.<br/>
<i><span class="small">read 9:35 am</span></i></p>
</div><p><i>9:36 am</i><br/>
<b>sap</b><br/>
yeah you are<br/>
<i><span class="small">read 9:36 am</span></i></p><p><i>9:37 am</i><br/>
<b>sap</b><br/>
hey do you think wilbur’s gonna ask george out?<br/>
they’ll go on a bunch of dates<br/>
and adopt a bunch of british babies<br/>
they’re gonna be the premium british couples package<br/>
he’ll be with wilbur<br/>
instead of your nasty florida man dick<br/>
<i><span class="small">read 9:38 am</span></i></p><p> </p><p>Dream looks at the flood of texts, pouting with discontent at the mental image of George and Wilbur together. His eyebrows knit in silent anger, and he puts his phone face down on the table, attempting to stop thinking about the object of his affections with another man.</p><p>As the next twenty minutes pass, his phone buzzes intermittently whenever Sapnap formulates another one-liner full of innuendo. </p><p>For the rest of the meeting George gives him side glances, first confused and then annoyed, pointedly looking at his phone and the vibrations that run across the whole table.</p><p>The captain concludes the meeting and walks out with Wilbur following her. He gives a small wave to George and winks at him. George’s pale skin turns red and he waves back at Wilbur. Dream glares at the retreating back of the tall British man.</p><p>The rest of the crowd shuffles out slowly and Dream sits back at his own desk, pulling out his phone to read through the thirty fucking text messages that Sapnap sent him.</p><p>Most of them are just poking at his inability to express his true feelings, and others provoke his jealous tendencies. They’re all pretty tame for coming from someone like Sapnap. </p><p>Until he gets to the last one. The words ‘pale skin’ and ‘bruises’ and ‘big hands’ are all that register in his brain. He immediately turns to his best friend to yell at him. </p><p>The comments die in his throat as he looks at Sapnap, who is already staring at him with a shit-eating grin on his face, “I- You-”</p><p>“You what?” Sapnap looks at him expectantly, still smug, “Finish your sentences, Dreamy-poo.”</p><p>“Fuck off, Sap.”</p><p>Sapnap cackles.</p><p> </p><p>
    <b></b></p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>…</b>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p>A few weeks later, George walks into the bullpen with his tote bag in one hand, and a plain gift bag in the other - partially hidden by the jacket folded over his arm. Dream is already at his desk, chronically early to everything, fidgeting with some elastic bands. </p><p>Karl is at his desk, fingers flying over the keys of his computer. Skeppy and Bad are talking quietly in the break room. </p><p>George puts the gift bag down on Dream’s desk, startling him slightly. One of the bands snaps in his hands, “Fuck!” </p><p>George smirks, but otherwise doesn’t say anything. The obscenities garner him a tiny ‘language’ from the break room. Karl either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care enough, his hands still busy. </p><p>The bag rustles as Dream rummages through it. George sits down at his desk, and starts pulling out files and pens and clicks a few buttons on his computer.</p><p>The soft, black fabric of Dream’s sweater becomes visible, and somehow as if he has a radar for their bullshit, Karl perks up and the clicks of his keyboard stop. </p><p>Dream’s head turns up and his eyes land on George, “...You washed it?” He asks hesitantly.</p><p>George looks at him with one raised eyebrow, “Well, hi there. Good morning. How are you? I’m doing fine. Thank you for asking,” sarcasm drips off of his tongue. </p><p>At his desk, Karl had discreetly pulled out his camera, and was recording their interaction with silent laughter. </p><p>The tips of his ears turn red, “Oh yeah, sorry, good morning,” the words tumble out, in a rush. </p><p>George giggles slightly, and he answers Dream’s question lightheartedly, “And yes I did, why would I not wash it? I wore it, so the next logical step is to wash it.”</p><p>His eyes avoid George, “Thanks… for giving it back. You could’ve kept it, though.”</p><p>“Uh, it’s fine. I didn’t need it anymore,” his voice is distracted, and without thinking about it, George admits, “Wilbur got me a new sweater, anyway.”</p><p>Dream doesn’t answer George, but it doesn’t matter because the latter’s attention is already diverted to his phone.</p><p>For the next two weeks, all Dream hears from the trio of assholes is different and outlandish variations of his and George’s conversation anytime he’s alone.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b></b>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>…</b>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p>George’s voice breaks Dream out of his zone, “Hey, Dream?” </p><p>“Yeah?” He answers, distractedly, still half focused on the case in front of him and half focused on listening to George.</p><p>“I need your advice on something,” he says while getting out of his chair. Before Dream knows it, George is leaning over him and dropping down the case file George was working on. </p><p>Dream’s shoulders immediately tense up, the closeness of the other man is foreign. Dream will take any physical affection other people offer, but George has always been averse to touch.</p><p>George’s voice enters one ear and goes out the other; all Dream can focus on is the warmth emanating from the other man. He’s close enough that Dream can smell the artificial strawberry from the gum he was chewing on earlier - it mixes with the lavender coming from his clothes, and it makes him dizzy with longing.</p><p>In front of him, Quackity notices their closeness, and with his stupid eyebrows waggling up and down, proceeds to make obsence gestures with his fingers that only Dream notices. The movements go on for a grueling amount of time, testing Dream’s patience to its ends.</p><p>George huffs, not noticing Quackity, “Dream, you’re not even paying attention.”</p><p>Dream stops glaring at Quackity in an attempt to rectify George, “Yeah, I was… triple homicide, one suspect, no links blah blah blah.”</p><p>“Whatever, I’ll work on it myself,” a touch of indignance seeps into his tone as he snatches the file off of Dream’s desk harshly, “or maybe I’ll ask Wilbur.” </p><p>George isn’t as oblivious as Dream thinks he is. </p><p>He makes it only a few steps before a large hand circles around his wrist a little too tightly, pulling him back. </p><p>George groans, so quiet that no one hears it; he knows there’s going to be bruises - he always bruised way too easily.</p><p>Dream looks at his own hand in surprise. His body moved out of its own accord. He speaks quickly, George looks annoyed by him and he doesn’t like it, “Wait! I’m sorry, I promise I’ll listen. Tell me again?” </p><p>George puts up an exaggerated face of contemplation before Dream pulls out one of the most secret weapons in his arsenal - the puppy dog eyes.</p><p>George looks down at the bright and yellow, almost golden, eyes and rolls his own. He’s always been weak for Bambi eyes.</p><p>The two men become engrossed in the case, leaning into each other's space, with identical small and domestic smiles that neither of them know they possess. </p><p>Quackity, in a rare moment of fondness, looks at them with a quiet smile on his face before he remembers his role of menace to society and pulls out his phone to text his partners about the latest progression in the saga of the Dream and George love story.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b></b>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.</b>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p>It’s a new day, and Dream is feeling better, not good, but better. The three musketeers have calmed down a little bit over the last few days, limiting their comments and gestures to a minimum. They, at least, no longer harass him at lunch with absurd re-enactments of his and George’s interactions.</p><p>There’s only one thing that is still irritating him. George and Wilbur. The two British men have gotten closer, sharing a camaraderie that Dream has never had with George.</p><p>Even now he can see them giggling with each other near the kitchen, leaning into each other like the other just said the funniest thing on Earth.</p><p>Dream scowls, trying to force himself to tear his gaze away from the sight. He’s so focused in trying to unfocus, that he doesn’t notice the trio behind him.</p><p>“Y’know, Wilbur’s actually pretty cute,” Karl states, “If I didn’t like you two, I would go for him.” He places a small kiss on both Sapnap and Alex’s cheeks. The two men blush and coo at him, smothering him with butterfly kisses of their own.</p><p>When they stop their bout of affection, Sapnap, ever so gracefully, interjects with a comment of his own, “Yeah, Wilbur’s fucking gorgeous. <i>And</i> he’s nice to George. No wonder he doesn’t want Dream’s ugly mug.” He takes both of his hands and lays them on Dream’s cheeks, punctuating his sentence by rubbing his face aggressively.</p><p>Dream bats away his hands, “Sap, fucking stop.”</p><p>“Oooh, ok, ok,” Sapnap raises his hands placatingly. Karl leans his head on Sapnap’s shoulders.</p><p>“And, George is equally mean to me, we have our own banter that you wouldn’t understand,” the words come out strained, desperate to convince himself that George didn’t actually hate him.</p><p>“Just stop being a pussy, and tell him you like him, asshole,” Quackity says while crossing his arms, exasperated and annoyed with Dream’s antics. “You should listen to me. I bagged two of the most gorgeous men on the planet.” He points his thumbs at the two men.</p><p>Dream talks before either Sapnap or Karl can start their flirting again, “Shut up, Quackity. I distinctly remember you calling me drunk, crying over these two idiots, and how they would never like you back.” After a small pause, he adds, “Plus, you didn’t even make the first move, dickhead.”</p><p>Sapnap and Karl both let out twin snickers and pull Alex between them, effectively sandwiching him.</p><p>“Aww, Alex I didn’t know you cried over us. When we get home, I’m gonna give you a bunch of kissies.” Karl wraps his hands around Quackity’s shoulders.</p><p>“Wow. <i>Wow</i>. I thought we were friends, whore.” Quackity exclaims, not actually mad - too busy being smothered by his boyfriends. He rests his hands on top of Karl’s hands. “I called you in confidence!” </p><p>Dream rolls his eyes at the shorter, and flips him off, going back to glaring silently at Wilbur.</p><p>Quackity huffs, lightheartedly, “Come on, boys. Dream <i>clearly</i> doesn’t want us around. He’s too busy wallowing in self-pity.”</p><p>The three of them walk off, leaving Dream in his metaphorical puddle of self-loathing and jealousy.</p><p>He hits his head against his desk, trying to get rid of the dark cloud of feelings with brute force. </p><p>“Woah, what the hell is up with you?” George’s voice parts the clouds, and Dream immediately perks up.</p><p>“Nothing! What’s up with you?”</p><p>“Okayyy,” His voice drags out the words as he takes in the scene in front of him - Dream has a huge red mark on his forehead and a slightly manic grin. “Nothing’s up with me either, seeing as <i>I’m</i> not the one banging my head on my desk.” </p><p>At this moment, Dream truly realizes how much time George has been spending with Wilbur because his silver tongue fails him and he sits there stumped, unable to come up with something witty to respond.</p><p>George looks at him expectantly, with one slightly raised eyebrow.</p><p>“Well, that’s ‘cause you’re too busy banging something else.”</p><p>Dream winces, regret floods his body as soon as the words leave his mouth. <i>Too far, asshole</i>.</p><p>As expected, George’s eyes narrow and Dream prepares himself for scathing remarks, but they never come. The former just sighs, and looks away focusing on his computer screen, muttering a fed up ‘whatever, Dream.’</p><p>Dream gets up, and mumbling out weak excuses about why he’s leaving. Passing by Sapnap’s desk, he hears the man quietly confirm that he had crossed a line. </p><p>The Floridian walks to the bathroom, facepalming himself repeatedly on the way. The door opens with a creak, and he walks straight to the sink. The water washes away the grime and sweat from the day. The calluses on his hands rub the skin on his face roughly as he scrubs viciously. </p><p>“Not cool what you said to George, man.”</p><p>Dream groans, “Fuck off, I <i>really</i> don’t need <i>you</i> of all people giving me shit.”</p><p>Wilbur glares at the blond man, “I think I have the right to yell at you all I want, considering you’re not in my good graces right now.”</p><p>The water stops running, and Dream looks up at Wilbur with his face dripping, “Fuck. Off.”</p><p>Wilbur sighs, rubbing a tired hand down his face, “Dude, seriously. I’m trying <i>really</i> fucking hard to not deck you in the face.”</p><p>“Do it, then.” The challenge goes unanswered. “Bet George wouldn’t be too happy about his little boyfriend getting in a fight.” </p><p>The comment startles a laugh out of Wilbur, as he pieces together what’s happening.</p><p>“Oh my god. Holy shit.” There’s another laugh and it borders on maniacal, before the man continues, “You’re jealous.”</p><p>Dream blushes, “Fuck off,” he says for the third time, but by now it’s lost the previous malice. “I’m not fucking jealous.” He is, but he’s not going to admit it to a stranger let alone the person who’s <i>making</i> him jealous.</p><p>Wilbur grins, he still looks a little insane but it’s not as scary as before, “Chill out, man. Contrary to popular belief, I’m straight.”</p><p>The confession makes Dream’s guard drop, but it leaves him more confused than ever before. His doubt must be obvious, because Wilbur starts talking again.</p><p>“I’m just naturally flirtatious.”</p><p>Dream narrows his eyes.</p><p>“Ok, fine. I’m not,” Wilbur admits, “but Gogy used to go to the same uni as me back in Brighton. I didn’t think he recognized me, so I took advantage and had a little fun,” Wilbur shrugs with indifference, as if flirting with the one person Dream had liked in years wasn’t a big deal.</p><p>The tall, British man keeps talking and Dream ignores him, reaching for the brown paper to dry his face.</p><p>The rest of the day passes, Dream unable to say even one word to George. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b></b>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.</b>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p>They’re all sitting in the briefing room again. Except, this time, George chooses to sit with Wilbur instead of Dream. Everyone in the room picks up on the tension between the two.</p><p>Now, Dream is sitting alone, feeling vaguely reminiscent of how he did in his high school cafeteria. </p><p>“Taken...case number 2385...,” Puffy’s voice vaguely registers, “Taken. Give us the update on the Rosenthal case.”</p><p>Dream nods at the captain, and collects the files on the table, taking them up to the podium. He drops the files on the stand and rests his elbows on top of them. </p><p>“Alright, so, uh, the…,” He glances at the file, trying to recall the details, “right, the Rosenthal case. So, Henry Rosenthal is, as you all should know, the biggest organized cocaine dealer, in Brooklyn.”</p><p>The remote in his hands clicks, and the slide on the tv screen next to him changes to show a picture of the man. </p><p>Dream sighs, and continues, “We’ve received information that he’s arranging a drop to a new supplier tonight. So, we need to intercept his package, the new supplier, and Rosenthal near midnight, which is when the drop is gonna be.”</p><p>He looks to the side at Puffy, and she gives him a nod, “Ok, so your team tonight is going to be…,” she looks around the room, “Drivas, Roberts, and Jacobs.”</p><p>Dream flinches minutely at the mention of George, “Uh, captain I could probably just take Quackity, Sap, and Karl instead.” He lets out a nervous laugh, “Those three are attached at the hip anyways.”</p><p>Alex notices the tension in Dream’s shoulders and lies through his teeth, “No can do, green man. I’m busy with another case.”</p><p>George speaks up, “And I’m not. So…”</p><p>Dream’s too busy glaring at Quackity to answer George - the beanie wearing man had just been boasting about the fact that he had no open cases, damn it. </p><p>Quackity stares back at Dream, leaning back into the plastic chair with his arms crossed and a smug grin on his face.</p><p>“It’s final, Taken.” The captain turns around and starts walking out, “Drivas, Roberts, and Jacobs are your team for tonight.” </p><p>“Dream, can I talk to you? In private.” George’s voice is cold. He walks out of the briefing room without waiting for an answer.</p><p>Sapnap, Karl, Quackity, and somehow Wilbur, are all on the same wavelength, so all Dream hears while he walks behind George at a snail’s pace - trying to stall an awkward conversation, is “Ooooooohh, Dream’s in trouble!” Their voices, mocking and childish.</p><p>“Dream! Hurry up!” The annoyance in his voice is clear. Dream’s pace quickens.</p><p>The air in the break room is colder, and the minute he passes the entrance, Dream regrets every decision in his life that led him to this exact moment where he can see every muscle in George’s face etched with irritation and thinly veiled anger.</p><p>“Hi.” Dream tries extra hard to keep his voice neutral.</p><p>George looks unimpressed, “Why are you trying to- to keep me away from this case?” His voice wavers, and Dream can feel his heart break from the guilt when George continues, “Did I do something wrong?”</p><p>“No!” Dream shouts, not realizing his loudness, “George no, you haven’t done anything. I just, I didn’t think you’d want to work with me, <i>especially</i> after that comment I made a few days ago,” his hands wave frantically as he talks, “and I know you’re sensitive to those things, but I still said it and then I didn’t even apologize, and I- I just felt really bad-” </p><p>A warm hand covers his mouth, effectively stopping his rambling. </p><p>“Dream. Look at me.”</p><p>Dream forces his eyes to move up. Still unable to look at George in the eyes, he settles for staring at the light spattering of freckles across the other’s cheeks.</p><p>“I’m not mad, Dream. I promise.” George reassures.</p><p>“Don’t act like I’m made out of glass,” their eyes meet and he can hear the slight grin in George’s voice, “And if I sounded disappointed… I had hoped you wouldn’t resort to middle school jokes, but I should’ve expected it,” the man steps back, his hand falling away from Dream’s mouth.</p><p>Dream groans, but he’s happy that they’re back to their regular selves, “Shut up, George.”</p><p>There’s a pause in the air, before George’s gentle curiosity takes the better of him, “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me these past few days?”</p><p>The blond debates whether to answer truthfully or try and lie, but he’s never been one to deceive, especially with George, “Yeah.”</p><p>George laughs, unrestrained and gorgeous. </p><p>Dream doesn’t think there’s a more beautiful sound in the entire universe. </p><p>Through his own giggles, “I felt really guilty!” He protests. “Dick.”</p><p>The shorter man just laughs harder, and Dream, wanting nothing more than to be close to him, wraps his arms around George’s waist. <i>This’ll shut him up</i>, he reasons with himself. George’s laughs turn into a squeal as Dream lifts him up easily and spins him around. </p><p>“Oh, Georgie! I’m not gonna stop until you stop laughing!” </p><p>“Dream! Put me down!” George’s hands latch onto Dream’s shoulders, like it’s second nature. “Ok, I’ll stop, I’ll stop!”</p><p>Dream lets go of George - putting him down gently, his hands still rest on George’s waist, and they stand facing each other, the tips of their shoes practically touching. The giggles and the laughter dies down, until their shoulders stop shaking. George’s hands move down to rest against Dream’s chest. </p><p>The strawberry on George’s breath, from the gum he always chews, mingles with the mint from Dream's toothpaste.</p><p>From this distance, Dream can count the freckles on his face easily. His pale skin is dusted pink; his cheeks resemble the sunrise - shades of pink against the lightest impression of the stars.</p><p>Dream’s gaze flickers down to George’s lips for a fraction of a second, before they hear a distinct cough, the British accent somehow present in the sound, “Ahem.”</p><p>The two detectives realize their proximity and jump apart, turning to face where the voice had come from.</p><p>There’s four people staring at them, all standing at the door of the break room with identical self-satisfied grins on their faces.</p><p>Quackity, like the instigator he is, remarks without letting his smile dull, “What’s going on here?” </p><p>“You two <i>are</i> pretty red. Is the air conditioner not working?” Wilbur asks, with no actual curiosity because they had <i>all</i> seen the entire exchange from the moment Dream walked in to right now.</p><p>Dream clears his throat, mumbling excuses into his fist, and pushes his way through his friends and Wilbur. Sapnap claps his back on the way out, whispering a quiet, ‘guess he wants your Florida man dick, after all.’ Dream blushes.</p><p>He sits in his chair, and from his desk he can still see the four of them teasing George who fights back, but his words are undermined by the red on his face.</p><p>The noises from the break room continue, and Dream laughs to himself lightly. He feels bad for leaving George to fend for himself, but there was no way he would be able to survive the conversation if they were both getting teased.</p><p>There’s a fond smile on his face as he stares at George through the windows of the room. As if he can feel the weight of Dream’s gaze, George looks back at Dream and gives him a small wave that somehow no one catches.</p><p>Dream chuckles, and with a shake of his head, gets to work on his case.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b></b>
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<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.</b>
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</div><p> </p><p>Before getting into the car the officers at the front had given to him for the night, Dream stops his team, “Ok, just to be sure that everyone knows the plan, let’s review it one last time. We’re going to start following Rosenthal’s car at the intersection of 23rd and Weston. Then, when we get the confirmation that his supplier is there, we bust them. Clear?”</p><p>The seriousness of his voice is distinct and it stops Karl and Sapnap from acting like doofuses. Dream gets a ‘clear’ from all three of his team members, and he moves aside to let them get into the car. </p><p>Sapnap drives them out of the parking lot and onto the road, with Karl in the passenger seat. Dream and George sit in the back. </p><p>They’re all focused on the case, and so none of them attempt to make any small talk. The music of radio is the only thing that resonates in the silence.</p><p>Ten minutes into the drive, Sapnap states, some panic seeping into his voice, “He’s turning right, he’s not supposed to be turning right.”</p><p>Dream goes through the options of why Rosenthal would be changing his route, before coming to a decision, “Just keep following him Sap. He has to stop somewhere.”</p><p>“We’ll discuss a new plan after he stops,” George says, practically completing Dream’s thoughts out loud.</p><p>They continue following the car in tense silence, when eventually Sapnap speaks up again, “He’s stopping.”</p><p>“Ok, pull over.” Dream commands.</p><p>Karl takes in the details of their new environment while Sapnap parks, “Rosenthal’s going into a restaurant.” He leans forward, “I think he’s having dinner with his daughter.”</p><p>Dream hums, “Ok, new plan. Me and George are gonna go in and keep an eye on Rosenthal until he leaves. Karl, you and Sap stay outside and monitor the situation from here.”</p><p>Karl nods, but when he takes a look at the two in the backseat his eyebrows knit in concern, “Uh, Dream, there’s no way Rosenthal’s not gonna know you’re cops. You’re not dressed like you’re going to eat at a fancy restaurant.”</p><p>“Give me your jacket, Karl. And Sap… switch shirts with Dream,” George demands, “we’ll look slightly more formal.”</p><p>The four men rustle with their clothing, trying to switch as fast as they were capable of, not wanting to lose sight of Rosenthal.</p><p>George rolls his eyes when he sees Karl eyeing Sapnap, who had taken off his shirt and was left with nothing underneath. Beside him, Dream is also shirtless. However, George absolutely does <i>not</i> stare at the tanned expanse of skin and toned muscle that has become available to him.</p><p>“Get a room, you two.” Dream teases, as he grabs the shirt from Sapnap across the middle of the car and hands off his own. </p><p>“We have a room, thank you very much,” Sapnap snaps back, and quickly leans over to Karl to place a tiny peck on his lips. He whispers something in Karl’s ears that makes the brunet blush.</p><p>George rolls his eyes again and opens the car door to leave. He makes his way to the restaurant doors, and before he knows it, Dream is behind him with a warm hand on his shoulder.</p><p>They enter the building and immediately relax. There’s a large crowd in the restaurant but the tables are all in one room, so they’ll have no problem blending in while keeping an eye on Rosenthal and his daughter.</p><p>Dream strides up to the waitress stand with George following close behind. Rosenthal is just two people away which means that he’ll be able to hear Dream which then means that from now on Dream and George are officially undercover. </p><p>With that in mind, Dream speaks to the waitress with the most polite tone he can muster up, “Hi. I was wondering if me and…,” he gestures to George who steps closer to Dream, “and my partner could get a table for two?” Just for extra reassurance, Dream gives her his signature smile that melts even the coldest of people.</p><p>The waitress smiles at them and looks down at the tablet in her hands. Her joyful expression turns into a frown and she tells the two detectives with sincere regret in her tone, “I’m so sorry, sirs, but unfortunately our whole restaurant is full. And, the next five tables are also already booked.”</p><p>Dream’s mind races, trying to find a way to stay close to Rosenthal and his daughter. If they can’t find a way, they might not get another chance to intercept his plans. Before he knows it, George is wrapping his arm around his waist, and he rests a hand delicately on Dream’s chest. </p><p>“Oh no, that’s so sad. My Clay here, proposed tonight and we were really hoping to enjoy a nice dinner to end the night,” George exclaims, putting on a, surprisingly, believable act. His voice is higher than usual, and when Dream looks down at George, his eyes get caught on a silver band on the shorter’s ring finger.</p><p>Dream looks back at the waitress, and with a strained voice tries to keep the act going, “Is there really no way we could get a table? I just want to make this a perfect night for my Georgie.” He can feel the weight of George’s stare, silently judging him for being unable to come up with a fake name for him.</p><p>The waitress, Amelia (according to the nametag pinned to her shirt), looks at the two of them and her face softens, “You know what, I’ll get you two cuties a table in no time.”</p><p>Dream sighs a breath of relief, “Thank you.”</p><p>He turns around to face George whose face is just a touch too close. “Where’d you get the ring from?” </p><p>George shrugs, “Karl’s always wearing them. I guess he took one off and left it in the jacket pocket.”</p><p>Dream makes a small noise of acknowledgement and looks around for any sign of Rosenthal and finds that he and his daughter have been seated.</p><p>“Well, at least we don’t have to keep up the married act, right?”</p><p>George lets out an awkward laugh and hums. They stand together in silence, Dream rocks on the balls of his feet not being able to stand still. Amelia, the waitress, comes back with a smile on her face and when she approaches them, George grabs onto Dream again. </p><p>“Alright, I have a table ready for you two lovebirds, if you would just follow me.”</p><p>Dream beams at her and George’s grip on him tightens. They follow her to the main dining area, and in the mass of people with full tables, there’s one empty table. </p><p>Which is, <i>oh so conveniently</i>, right beside Rosenthal and his daughter.</p><p>“Oh, god,” Dream mumbles under his breath. They get to the table and without thinking about it, Dream pulls out the chair for George before moving back to the other side of the table. George scoffs at him, but it’s not loud enough for anyone else to hear.</p><p>Rosenthal’s daughter glances at them and then does a double-take before exclaiming, “Oh my god, you guys are such a cute couple! We heard you guys at the front, I’m Katie.”</p><p>She’s nice, but all it means is that Dream and George are going to have to pretend to be married, and it does not bode well for either of them. There’s too much potential to slip and risk letting the other become aware of their feelings. The two can only keep up an act for so long.</p><p>“Thank you,” George’s accent allows him to still sound polite, even though Dream can pick up on the hint of annoyance in his voice.</p><p>Rosenthal doesn’t say a word, and his daughter continues asking them questions. “When did you guys get together?”</p><p>“Three years ago.” Dream answers, trying to keep his words to a minimum and limiting the danger of exposing their identities. </p><p>They hadn’t had any time to plan a backstory for their undercover personas. George knows this, so he lets Dream do most of the social necessities, busying himself with looking at the menu. He’s not much of a talker anyway. At least, compared to Dream.</p><p>“That’s adorable. How’d you meet? And, gimme your hand! I wanna see the ring.” Her southern accent shines through a little as she gets more excited. She makes grabbing motions at George who reluctantly leans over to show her the ring. </p><p>Dream gulps, the ring is really prominent. Like, <i>really</i> prominent. “Uh, we met at work. He, was, uh, late and we ran into each other. He almost fell over, but luckily, I- I was able to grab him.” </p><p>It’s not too far from the truth. They had rammed into each other the first time they met, but there was significantly more cursing and less touching.</p><p>Katie coos at them, twisting George’s pale hand in her own. “Y’all are a real movie couple, huh?” She teases lightheartedly.</p><p>George forces a smile onto his face, “Yeah, it was a real cliche.” Then, he adds, more genuine than before. He gestures for her to lean forward, and whispers conspiratorially, “Don’t tell him, but I ran into him…on purpose.”</p><p>Dream had chosen the worst moment to take a sip of the water, because he chokes slightly, coughing into his elbow and blushing. Obviously, George had said it as a joke, but there was sincerity in his voice. <i>Wasn’t there?</i></p><p>“Awwww, look at ‘im, he’s blushing,” She makes fun of Dream, tone light and sisterly. “Well, I just have one last question for y’all, ‘cuz I’m a big ol’ sap for romance, and then I’ll leave y’all alone.”</p><p>Katie’s tone grows a little more serious and a little more fond and nostalgic, “What do y’all like most about each other?”</p><p>The two detectives are stunned into silence, not expecting a question like that.</p><p>George clears his throat, bringing Dream’s gaze to him. They lock eyes, and George smiles a quiet smile, “He’s kind…and when he talks to me, he sees me.”</p><p>Dream’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he remembers what he was going to say. He takes a breath and lets it out, rushing along with the mountain of words that comes with, “He makes me feel alive. Everytime we talk, or argue, or banter, I feel alive.” </p><p>He reiterates, “He makes me feel alive.”</p><p>George’s eyes soften. </p><p>Katie’s voice breaks the brief spell over the two men, “You remind me of my husband and I.” She says with the fragility of time and nostalgia. “Well, a promise is a promise, get back to your date.” She smiles at them and turns back to her dad. </p><p>An hour passes, with George and Dream making small talk. They don’t venture into anything too complex, both of them still caught up in their previous comments.</p><p>Katie leaves sometime during after getting a call, with apologies rolling off her tongue directed to her father. She waves them a good-bye, her manicured nails glinting under the fluorescent lights. </p><p>Rosenthal leaves shortly after, and the two detectives wait a few minutes before making a call to Sapnap and Karl to make sure they’re ready to move. Then, they follow after Rosenthal. </p><p>“He went to the kitchen. He might be handing the package off here instead.”</p><p>Dream smiles, “After you, Georgie.”</p><p>The shorter man walks ahead and follows the path that Rosenthal had gone. The drug lord was talking to one of the chefs in the kitchen near the back of the restaurant. George peers around the corner of the brick wall of the hallway leading to the kitchen and the back of the building. </p><p>Dream leans over George’s shoulder, resting his hand on the other man’s shoulders. The two of them look into the open kitchen, trying to make sense of what Rosenthal could be talking about.</p><p>Over the brown mop of hair, Dream makes brief eye contact with Rosenthal. His hand grips George’s shoulder hard, tightening in panic. George frowns at the sudden pressure, but quickly makes the connection.</p><p>As if their brains are linked, Dream and George switch their positions, so that the former is essentially pinning the British man against the brick wall. </p><p>“What do we do?” Dream whispers, a hint of agitation in his voice.</p><p>George blushes, and wraps his finger around the collar of Dream’s shirt. He tugs him down, so their faces are level.</p><p>Dream tries to push back slightly, but George’s grip is firm and sturdy, “What the hell are you doing, George?”</p><p>The red on his cheeks has not gone away, in fact it seems to grow stronger with the words that leave him, “Shut up. Let me think.”</p><p>The next sentence that comes out of the shorter of the two, leaves Dream breathless and flustered.</p><p>“Dream. Kiss me.”</p><p>Dream’s jaw drops open, “What?! Are you serious?” Surprisingly, he manages to keep his voice down, his words become more frantic but they don’t increase in volume.</p><p>“He’ll think we’re celebrating.” It’s not enough, but Dream can fill in the blanks. “Rosenthal. Newly-weds,” George clarifies anyway, releasing the collar of Dream’s shirt that’s now wrinkled. He gestures to the two of them in some vague, general motion.</p><p>“Oh. Yeah.”</p><p><i>What are you waiting for?</i> Dream asks himself. His hands are frozen, pressed into the rough texture of the wall. </p><p>Neither of them know who leans forward first, but before either of them can second-guess their decision, they’re kissing.</p><p>Dream’s hands peel off the wall, the brick leaves behind red imprints in the palms of his hands. A few particles of gravel or concrete, he can’t tell, fall off and stick to the pale skin. He brushes the tips of his fingers against his palms lightly, and then brings them down to George’s face. The skin under his hands is warm and soft. </p><p>Their lips move against each other in tandem, a constant give and take. It’s like a dance, Dream brushes his tongue over George’s bottom lip - George pulls the tip of Dream’s tongue into his mouth. He lets go of Dream’s collar, the fabric crinkled and just the tiniest bit damp from the sweat that formed on his palms. George rakes his nails across Dream’s nape while moving his hands to comb through the man’s thick, barely blonde and slightly wavy hair. </p><p>The delicate scratches of George’s nails make Dream shiver, and he lets out a small whimper. They pull apart with not even a millimeter of space between their lips. Dream moves his hands and rests them on George’s waist. The weight of the jacket pulls his shirt up, as he stands on his toes to wrap his arms around the taller. Dream’s hands make tiny circular motions across the expanse of George’s waist. </p><p>Their mouths barely leave each other, creating a harmony of wet sounds and soft breathless sighs. Dream wraps his arms around George’s small waist, pulling him closer until there’s no space between their bodies. </p><p>They’re both so hypnotized with the other’s tangible form, they don’t notice that Rosenthal is behind them, looking at the two with mirth and some fondness in his eyes. He clears his throat in an attempt to get their attention.</p><p>The sound vaguely registers in Dream’s ears but he’s reluctant to pull away. George pries away his mouth first, leaving a string of saliva connecting their lips and Dream chasing after the sweetness of his mouth. </p><p>George whispers a small, “Dream,” and wipes the spit from his lips with the back of his hand. Still entranced by the fact he had finally kissed Dream, he realizes that the taller man also has swollen and spit-covered lips. He swipes them with his thumb, because Dream seems dazed and out of it. He smirks and turns back to the target at hand.</p><p>“Newly-weds, am I right?” George says, trying to sound sheepish.</p><p>Rosenthal chuckles, and shakes his head, “You would be correct.” With a tip of his head, the old man leaves, briefcase still in hand.</p><p>George tilts his head and watches the figure slowly disappear out the back of the building. </p><p>“So…,” Dream’s voice sounds hoarse, and tight from the intense making out with tongue. Lots and lots of tongue. </p><p>“So…,” George mimics. </p><p>Dream clears his throat, “We should go if we want to stay on his trail.”</p><p>George nods. They both do that thing where one person walks one way and the other person follows by accident a few times. A few awkward giggles leave the both of them before they finally get it together and fall into step to leave.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>…</b>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p>They’re all sitting in the car, once again. Karl turns in his seat to look at them. His eyes narrow, critically, analyzing the two detectives in the back.</p><p>Wrinkled collars, swollen and red lips, matching blushes on their cheeks, an awkwardness in the air that rivals the embarrassment that comes after having a one night stand. </p><p>Karl’s eyes light up in recognition, and he smacks Sapnap on the arm excitedly. </p><p>“Ow! Babe, watch it. I’m fucking driving.”</p><p>“Sap! Sap! They fucking did it! They made out!”</p><p>“No way.” Disbelief runs clear in Sapnap’s voice.</p><p>Karl giggles, that high pitched manic giggle that he does, “Yes way.”</p><p>“It was about fucking time. That blond bas-”</p><p>Dream leans forward and covers his best friend’s mouth before he can reveal anything incriminating. He gets a swift and wet tongue against his palm for that. </p><p>“Eww, Sap why are you so fucking gross?”</p><p>“Why are your palms so damn sweaty?”</p><p>“Whatever.”</p><p>They all fall silent before Karl speaks up again, “So, George… Does Dream’s reputation hold up to the real thing?”</p><p>The colour on his cheeks returns with full force as he recalls the, all too brief, makeout session, “Yeah… it does.” </p><p>He risks a glance at the man next to him, only to find Dream already looking at him with stars in his eyes.</p><p>“Oooooooh, I might have to try too. Kiss for the homies, Dream?”</p><p>George glares at Sapnap through the rearview mirror, unfounded jealousy taking over.</p><p>“Shut up, Sap.”</p><p> </p><p>
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<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>…</b>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p>Back at the precinct, after another successful arrest, Dream is filing the paperwork for the Rosenthal case. At this point, though, he’s not exactly paying attention to the words in front of him. It’s more like reminiscing on the way George had felt, and with great sadness, realizing he might never get the chance to kiss or run his hands over the other man’s skin ever again.</p><p>“Hey, can we talk?”</p><p>Dream’s head snaps up to see George peering down at him with his big, brown eyes, and his unfairly long eyelashes, and the light spattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose and along the apples of his cheeks.</p><p>“Yeah, alright. Uh, wanna go to the evidence room?”</p><p>“Sure.” George walks away, and Dream has to pinch his thighs through the thick material of his jeans to get himself to snap out of his frozen state.</p><p>With shaky knees, and trembling hands, Dream walks behind George to the evidence room. When they get there, the metal of the wire door clangs quietly as the weight of it swings closed.</p><p>They stand facing each other for a brief moment, “So… what did you wanna talk about?”</p><p>George takes a deep breath, “Let me say everything I wanna say first, before you say anything, ok?” He looks at Dream for confirmation.</p><p>Dream nods, and George starts talking again, the words tumbling out of him at a rate he’s never heard.</p><p>“We kissed, and I know it was for work, but we both know you get awkward when things are unclear, and this is a really weird situation, and I don’t want this to change anything between us. I like our relationship like it is right now. Like, seriously, Dream. I don’t want anything to change.”</p><p>He releases a shaky breath, and Dream can see how nervous he is. Dream rests a hand on his shoulder, and with a tiny, lop-sided smile says, “It’s ok, George. I get it.” If the fact that George doesn’t want something more hurts, Dream doesn’t let it show.</p><p>“Ok.” George sighs, “thank you, Dream.”</p><p>“Yeah, of course.” Dream’s voice is soft and reassuring.</p><p>With that, the conversation should end, but something keeps them both standing there - rooted in the same spot. </p><p>There’s still a tension in the air that neither of them can shake. George exhales, a tiny wavering breath that no one would be able to hear, and takes a step forward. He looks up at Dream, through those <i>damned</i> long, and dark eyelashes. </p><p>And, something snaps in them. </p><p>Dream grabs his face roughly, planting his lips firmly on George’s. The latter lets out a small moan, and pulls Dream to him, moving back a few paces until his back hits the shelves, rattling the metal along with the rows of boxes full of evidence from past cases.</p><p>George grips Dream’s shirt, his pale fingers tangling in the white fabric. Dream grips one of the shelves, his arm right next to George’s ear, and pushes the shorter man harder into the shelves. Their lips press together with bruising force, untold feelings melting into each swipe and bite of their tongues and teeth.</p><p>Their arms and hands switch positions - Dream’s hands trailing down George’s body, to his waist, and George moving his hands to grab at Dream’s face, in a futile attempt to pull the man closer.</p><p>Dream’s hands just barely rests on the swell of George’s ass, before he gains some semblance of control, the last of his will put into prying his mouth away from George’s.</p><p>“Wait,” he whispers against the other’s lips, George leaves butterfly kisses around the skin of his mouth and along his jaw, “What are we, George?”</p><p>The loaded question makes the shorter man stop his ministrations for a bit, “I don’t know,” he whispers back.</p><p>Neither of them want to stop feeling the warmth of the other, or ruin the quiet rush of euphoria. </p><p>So they don’t.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>welp ,, hope you guys enjoyed that !! sorry for leaving y'all on that cliffhanger ?? i don't know if it counts as one but we ARE getting closer to the established relationship tag y'all ,, LET'S FUCKING GOOO</p><p>side note: i’ll probably edit this later cuz it’s late and i’m posting this cuz i forced myself to finish it , so early readers you get the unedited raw work ,, soz</p><p>list of the names (cuz it might be confusing):<br/>Dream Taken<br/>George Roberts<br/>Sapnap Drivas<br/>Alex Quackity<br/>Karl Jacobs</p><p>thank you for reading! if you want to check out my tumblr: <a href="https://niunepp.tumblr.com/"> @niunepp </a> and twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/niunepp_"> @niunepp_ </a></p><p>have a nice day or night! please leave a kudos or a comment, it helps me know if people actually like my work lol ,, thank you!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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